Judy's Crush
by M2S
Summary: Featuring Judy the receptionist's crush on a CSI. From Judy's POV. Total Fluff, I assure you. My first posting - please review.


To say that I had been thinking about him was a small bit of understatement. Actually, to say I was crazy over him was a small bit of understatement. It was just like high school again. One of those crushes that looks right at you, and continues looking right on through you. High school was a long time ago, but here I was, right back in that mode. Maybe you weren't a loser in high school, so here's the drill.

I make sure to volunteer to make his favorite treat for every office party. Usually it's either the banana pudding or guacamole, depending on the party. I do this just to hear him say, "Gosh, you make banana pudding just like my grandma back home." Or "Is that your famous guacamole in the break room? Sometimes I think you make that just for me." And then he will smile that million-dollar smile and I. Just. Melt. I find myself volunteering to run little errands for the techs so that I can deliver something to him, or even just walk by and wave. He always waves back if he sees me.

Is it the square jaw or the sweetest accent or the fabulous form?

Most of the girls, office or lab techs, are gaga over Warrick, and believe me, I can appreciate a beauty of a man like that, but when it comes to personality, I like old fashioned, and Nick Stokes is about as old fashioned as a man gets in 2005 without being a complete ass. He opens doors, uses his manners, and all without managing to scope out your rack, at least overtly. Didn't I warn you that I had gone totally school-girl over him?

What chance does the receptionist have to gain a CSI's attention. I mean, those folks are busy, busy, busy. The only time Mr. Grissom even seems to remember my name is when he is roping me into one of his "experiments". Though it did give me a chance to manhandle Warrick once. Hey, I might be crazy over Nick, but like I said, I can appreciate a good looker like Warrick.

They are all nice, if a bit preoccupied. Its like being in high school, but nicer, in that the cool kids will talk to you. After all, we are all adults here. I keep mentioning high school, but hierarchies always emerge in any social situation. High school is just an extreme case.

So when I saw Nick leaving that evening, and telling Grissom, "Just another day in paradise," I paid attention. I could see the sadness in his eyes, his body language. I felt for him. It had been his second nerve fraying case in a couple of weeks. Both had involved young, pre-teen boys being senselessly killed. One boy was beaten by his brother, barely a teen himself. The other boy was killed by his best friend in a bone headed stunt.

I had gotten involved, in a small way, in the first case. Catherine had come by the desk where I was doing my filing.

"Judy, do you think you could do me a favor?" Catherine had asked. I wasn't wary since I often did small favors for Catherine. Sometimes I faxed things, or answered her office phone in case Lindsey called. I wasn't really expecting a Grissomian stunt.

"Sure. Do you need me to answer your phone?"

"Not exactly," she said, hedging. "How tall are you, Judy?" She smiled sardonically. I knew something was up then. She was holding her hands so that her fingers were intertwined, the palms facing up and the thumbs towards me. In Catherine language, that is trouble.

"Why? I am not going to get lugged around by anyone. No stringing me up with a rope, no mock attacks." I tried to say it as a statement, preemptively, so that I was already saying no to playing a victim, again.

"Actually, you get to smash a dummy's head with a lead pipe." She grinned and added, "You could pretend that it is Lyle." Catherine and I shared a common bond - cheating ex-husbands. Her's had gotten himself killed. Mine was still trying to ruin my credit and thought I would take him back at a moment's notice.

"I'm 5' in my stocking feet. 5'3" in these shoes." I said, grinning back.

"Leave the shoes, and you may want to pull your hair back. I'll send Nicky to get you when we're ready." Well, that sealed the deal. She could have said Nick was involved and I would have gladly trussed myself up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

"Tell Nicky I'll be right here," I squeaked. Great way to give myself away, especially since I was flushing madly. Damn rosy complexion.

By the time Nick came by, I thought I had my blushing under control. I had my hair pulled up in a loose pony tail. The curls were bounding everywhere.

"So Miss Judy, ready to do some damage. How's your swing?" Nick asked. He was looking foxy in a light cashmere sweater. Too bad it came down to interfere with a good look at his butt.

"My swing's pretty good. I played rec softball most of life. I even played in high school. I'm thinking of joining the intra departmental league this season."

"Oh yeah? Where'd you grow up playing? My sister's all played ball in high school."

"I grew up in Illinois."

"You seem to have a slight drawl for an Illinois girl. You got any family in Texas," he asked. No, but I could, if you would only make it so.

"I'm not sure. My family was from the Carolinas, though I grew up in Illinois," is what I really said. How in the hell had I ended up in Vegas as a receptionist in the crime lab?

"Most of us in Vegas are from somewhere else," Nick said, seeming to echo the train of my thoughts. "Just look at me. My mom was certain I would be a pediatric specialist back home, and here I am. And here we are, " he said, opening the door to the lab for me. The longest conversation we had ever had. He was so darling.

When we had finished pummeling the dummy, it seemed that the blood splatter on my sweater most closely approximated the blood splatter on the sweater with the victim's blood. Evidently the killer was close to my height.

As I took off the sweater, my hair clip clattered to the floor, followed by my glasses.

"Darn it!" I swore. I hated my glasses. I had been considering LASIK, but our insurance didn't cover all the costs. As I reached down to grab the errant frames, Nick handed my hair clip to me. We rose together and he handed me my glasses as well.

"Thanks" I said. "I always seem to be losing them somehow."

"You have some splatter on your cheek," he said, reaching to touch my face, then faltering. I quickly rubbed my face with my own hand. "You have really green eyes. I never noticed before," he said. "Must have been the glasses."

"LASIK here I come!" I thought. I put the glasses back on and said, "So, what does this mean for your case?" He sighed, blowing the air out of pursed lips, such lovely lips that would surely be a pleasure to kiss.

"It means that I have a very difficult interview ahead of me. I hate it when kids are involved. And in this case, it looks like the victim and the perp are both kids." He was staring down at his feet, his brow furrowed, his shoulders tense.

"I'm sorry it's turned out this way, " I said, and I meant it. At that moment he looked so... defeated.

"Hey, it's my job to follow the evidence, and if that's where the evidence leads, then that's where I will go. Thanks for your help again," he said, holding the door for me. I walked back to my desk on a small cloud of lusty crush.

"Hey, Judy - that was a good swing. The swing shift team could use you," he called, disappearing around the corner.

"Thanks!" I called back, a little too enthusiastically, thinking about sharing beers with the softball team that included Nick Stokes.

The next couple of weeks were heavenly, in that Nick seemed to stop by more often than before. One day he even chatted me up about cooking in the break room. I had been getting out my leftovers and heating them up.

"Be careful," Nick had said as he came in, "Gris has gotten something rank in the fridge again."

"That's why I keep mine in this cooler," I said, lifting my now empty Clemson University soft cooler. "I keep it at my desk."

"Smart woman," he said. "Keeps the funk out. So, did you go to Clemson? I remember you saying you had some relatives in the Carolinas," he asked casually, but of course my heart was soaring.

"I went for a year and a half, yeah." I was saved by the beep of the microwave. I didn't want to go into how I had gotten married way too early in life and then ended up here in Vegas, supporting a no good drunk by working several jobs.

"Wow, that smells really good. What is that?" he asked, peering intently at my faux Tupperware.

"Chicken and dumplings. Would you like some?" I offered.

"I don't want to take your lunch," he demurred, though I noticed he was looking at his protein bar forlornly. "Are they ribbon type or fat dumplings?"

"Fat dumplings, and I am tired of eating them. That's the only thing about cooking for one; I always end up with too much." I extended the bowl to him, and he took a deep whiff and smiling, grabbed a styrofoam cup to have some dumplings. He started dipping in with a spork when his pager went off.

"Ah man. Thanks Judy, but I am going to have to take a rain check. They sure do smell good though." He began walking out the door, unwrapping his protein bar.

"Hey, I'll put the bowl in the fridge with your name on it!" I called after him. He waved and smiled as he turned the corner. Hodges came in with a snarky little grin on his face.

"Saving lunch for Nicky?" he asked primly. He reached into the fridge with a grimace. "I am going to say something to Ecklie about this fridge," he mumbled. He pulled out a diet Coke with "Hodges" written in black Sharpie on the label. "Someone has a crush."

"Oh knock it off. I just offered him leftovers. He's so nice all the time." I labeled the container with Nick's initials and placed it back in the Clemson cooler and set it on top of the fridge. I put a little postie with Nick's name on the cooler.

"Oh, someone has it bad!" I knew he was storing this away to share with whomever he could.

"Just because you have a scary crush on Mia doesn't mean that I have a crush on Nick," I said mildly, though I felt my face getting hot. I started out the door.

"Well frankly, Judy, I didn't think that you would go for someone who had been involved in all that hooker business." He said it so nonchalant, he must have thought that I knew. I sure didn't want to hear Hodges' version. I knew my face must look crestfallen.

"No worries then, huh?" What hooker business? How had I missed out on this little piece of info?

"Yeah, just because he looks like Mr. All-American, doesn't mean he is," Hodges continued, now unwrapping what looked to be egg salad from the deli around the corner. I left him to his lunch.

By the end of the shift, I had most of the pieces of the story. I had tried to be super casual about it in the ladies' room with Jacqui. Then Mia had come in and related all the pieces she knew from Greg.

"Where were you when all of this was going on?" Jacqui asked.

"It must have happened when I took some vacation time. I just can't believe I didn't hear about it before." Though the tale was sordid enough, at least it wasn't like Nick was out picking up hookers. He and this girl had a history, right?

"Well, it took a little of the gleam off of Stokes for me," continued Jacqui. "But then, that's OK. I like a man that isn't perfect. Before, Nicky was just a little too much."

"Don't let the accent fool you either," said Mia. "He is smarter and harder on the inside than he lets on."

"OK," said Jacqui. "Of the guys in the lab ..."

"Definitely Archie," said Mia, grinning.

"Oooh, Archie," agreed Jacqui. "Though I do love to look at Warrick. What about you, Judy?" Jacqui turned to me expectantly.

"Oh, I don't know. Archie and Warrick are eye candy. I like a man who's not prettier than me," I said flippantly. At this point, I wasn't sure what I thought any more. I mean, sleeping with a hooker and almost getting pegged for the murder. And he almost lost his job?

I had been down the road with one who looked good on the outside, but was rotten on the inside. I didn't want to do it again. Of course, this was assuming that I even had a chance with Nicky, which, really, was assuming a lot.

"I heard she's crushing pretty hard on Nick," said a voice, standing just in the doorway. It was Sara Sidle.

"Hodges!" I said. I tried to be dismissive. Jacqui and Mia were looking at me appraisingly. "Hodges is convinced that I am crushing on Nick because I shared some leftovers at lunch. It was nothing." I made my way towards the door. "Nothing," I repeated and walked back to my desk.

Later, Greg stopped by my desk. "I heard Nick saying that the leftovers you gave him were great," Greg said, his punky head cocked to the side. "He even said that his father always said to marry someone that could cook that good." Greg waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Damn that Sara.

"I do not have a crush on Nick Stokes!" I said vehemently.

"That's not what I heard," said Catherine. "Warrick said you had it pretty bad." She walked closer to my desk. "So do you?"

"How the heck would Warrick know! I haven't even talked to him today," I said, beginning to lose my patience with the CSI grapevine.

"What does Warrick know?" a voice asked. Catherine and Greg stepped back from my desk and there stood Nick himself. Catherine pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows, looking at me. Greg grinned impishly.

"How to make chicken and dumplings?" I said, lamely. The phone rang and I answered it brightly, "Las Vegas CSI, how may I help you?" The others walked away suddenly, all looking at their pagers. Nick turned back and smiled, raising his hand in a little wave. He did make a fine looking exit.

After work, I went to teach a yoga class, like I always do. It's a little extra money and I get to use the facilities for free. I had a truly hard time being centered that evening. Everything just felt off. My mind couldn't empty itself of the thought of Nick and a hooker. I hardly knew the man - what did it matter to me?

But obviously it did matter. I was too old to be pining after some guy. "Judy," I told myself, "you are no longer a wallflower. Take the issue in your own hands. Ask him out for a couple of beers, a back rub and night of sex he will never forget." I giggled at myself for that one. Like I had ever been one to throw a night of sex on somebody, just like that. I was silently rehearsing my invites:

"Hey, I was thinking we might could grab a couple of beers after work."

"Nick, I was going to go to the batting cage and practice since I'm a little rusty. Would you like to come?"

"I've got something at home just waiting for you to come _eat_ it." That last one made me smile to myself. I was woefully oblivious to my surroundings. As I got to my car and had pressed the keyless entry to get in, someone came up behind me.

"I always loved it when you taught yoga classes," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned to face Lyle Leonard, my ex-husband. "You always came home in such a good mood, and so... flexible." Lyle flashed a knowing smile at me. At one time, that smile would have made me putty in his hands. Now I could see the calculation behind it.

"What do you want, Lyle?" I said with steel in my voice. It wiped the smile off his face.

"What way is that to talk to your husband?" he asked stepping closer.

"EX-husband. Now what is it you want?" I put my bag in the car and held my keys at the ready. Lyle was looking worse for the wear. I hadn't seen him in close to a year. When we had married he had just finished his chemistry degree at Clemson and had gotten a great job with an assay lab in Vegas. I had transferred to WLVU and gotten a part-time waitress job. I stuck it out nearly eight years, through gambling, drinking, and cheating. I had worked two jobs and ended up quitting school. All for a lying SOB. Now, here I was, thirty, finally digging myself out of the debt he had incurred in my name.

"I need a place to crash, and some money. I can't seem to get a credit card anymore."

"Yeah, cause you kept getting them in my name. I've gotten all that settled now Lyle. You can't get credit from me anymore. I even changed my last name. And I'm not giving you money or letting you crash. What did you do anyway? Follow me from work?" I was as irate as I had ever been.

"Now you listen here," he growled stepping closer and grabbing my arm. I was surprised. This was a new low, even for Lyle. "I am all you have in Vegas. You need me," he claimed. Boy, someone had that backwards. I wrenched my arm from his grasp.

"NO. You listen. I have had it. Get out of my life. Forever."

"Hey, everything alright here Judy?" I turned to see Nick Stokes coming towards us. Great, now Nick could meet Lyle and I could go ahead and get over my crush. It was obvious from his clothes that Nick had come to work out. Texas Aggie muscle shirt was showing nicely chiseled arms and black shorts showing equally muscled legs, albeit legs that looked as if they hadn't seen the sun in a while. No risk of skin cancer there.

"This your new muscle head boyfriend? You slut," Lyle hissed.

"Man, that's no way to talk to a lady." Nick stepped up, one hand on his hip, the other pointing firmly in Lyle's direction, my knight in poly cotton blend.

"You keep yourself out of this, Mr. Clean Cut. I'll talk to this bitch however I see fit," Lyle said, grabbing my arm again. I had enough.

"Lyle," I said calmly. He turned to me with a sneer and I let him have it: right-cross followed by a left jab and the piece de resistance, a front kick in the nads. Lyle went down in a heap. "I don't just teach yoga anymore. There's also kick-boxing, twice a week, dumbass."

"Um, I guess you don't need me here then," Nick said, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Actually, you could keep an eye on him while I call the cops. He's got several warrants outstanding. Plus, I think I just broke my hand." I sucked my breath and whistled it out, cradling my now throbbing right hand in my left.

"I know all about that," said Nick. "You're a pretty tough customer, Judy." I think there was admiration in his voice.

So, my first time out with Nick included an ex, cops, and a trip to the emergency room. He stuck by me the whole time. If anything, he was as nice as I had thought. He had kept me talking while we waited for x-rays. I ended up telling him the whole sob story about Lyle.

"But, I'm in a good place now. I have the job at the lab, and I am scheduled to start classes again in the fall. Maybe finish up my degree in biochemistry." He had a way of listening that made you just open up. By this time, my friend Leia had entered the waiting room. Nick offered to stay with us, but I knew he needed to get some rest. I told him to go home.

"There goes any chance I had of dating him," I told Leia. "But I can always enjoy the view of him walking away."

"He's pretty tasty," she agreed. "But you never know. Not many guys would have stayed, or even interfered, for that matter." Yeah, well not many guys were Nick Stokes.

I took several days off to deal with restraining orders and my bruised, battered, but not quite broken hand.

The crew had a welcome back sign for me at the reception desk. Someone had written "BRUISER" in bold letters. Everyone seemed to know that I had defended myself, but no on seemed to know that it was my ex-husband. I was pretty grateful.

Catherine came by to welcome me back. "I heard about your ordeal. Lyle?" she asked, her head cocked sympathetically. "At least you got your licks in," she said, smiling at my now only slightly swollen hand.

Nick came as he was leaving. He looked haggard. He had aged more in the last month than he had in a year.

"How's it going, Bruiser?" he asked, smiling tiredly. I could see such sadness behind the smile. It reminded me of the day we had stood discussing the blood splatter on my sweater.

"So you're the one," I said, smilingly at him. "I'm good. You, however, look disenchanted to say the least." He shook his head grimly.

"These cases with kids, they eat you up." I nodded my head in acknowledgment. "Uh, Judy, I was just wondering ..."

Grissom chose that moment to walk up for his messages. Giving him messages always reminded me of a fellow named Paul Milander. He had stopped by once to leave Grissom a message. It turned out that he was a serial killer. Sometimes I wonder about this job. "I wanted to say, welcome back. You were missed," Grissom said.

"Why? Did you need someone my height for an experiment?" He smiled, sphinx like and nodded his head in assent. Nick had begun to back away.

"Tough case, Nick," Grissom said.

"Just another day in paradise." The phone rang, so all I could do was wave bye. When I go off the phone, I thought about it and rushed out to the parking lot. Nick was just pulling out. I waved him down.

"Something wrong?" he said earnestly through his rolled down window.

"No, it's just that, if I don't do this today, I may not get the nerve again," I said. I was full of confidence after dealing with Lyle. At thirty, maybe I had finally come into my own. "My plan is simple. You go home, get some rest, and at the end of my day, I will come over, bring some beers, a pizza, and we can talk about ... whatever. The case, life ..." I trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

"It's a nice offer, but I'm pretty bleak company." He hesitated slightly, and there was something in the way he was looking at me that made my stomach lurch slightly.

"Listen, you were really nice to me the other night, about Lyle. I want to return the favor. You really don't look like you need to be alone with your thoughts. Heck, even if its only two beers, I'll feel a little better," I said. By this point he was smilingly in a resigned, but relieved sort of way.

"Like I said before, you're a pretty tough customer. Alright - call my cell when you're coming over. I'll make sure I'm decent," he said.

"Your choice," I answered, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. I couldn't believe my own feistiness. That made him bark out a short laugh. He drove off still shaking his head in mild disbelief.

I called twice before driving over. He didn't answer either time. I wondered if I really needed to be bothering him. The confidence I had before seemed to leach out of me with each passing minute.

"Just do it," I said to myself. "It's now or never." Too bad I can only speak in cliches, even to myself. "You are not very motivating," I thought. But the look on Nick's face as it had walked out the door passed through my mind. Though I had always objectified him as a crush, he was a real man who was going through a rough time. So, I could go and be his friend, or I could continue to place him on a crush pedestal, basically making him into an object. "It's time to grow up, Judy. Be a grown woman and reach out to someone who needs it."

When I rang the doorbell I heard a muffled thump and someone calling, "Just a minute!" Doubts plagued my thoughts again. He opened the door bare-footed and rumpled. I could tell from his hair that he had been asleep. Even through his grogginess, he looked genuinely pleased to see me. Or maybe that look was for the Dos Equis, limes, and supreme pizza. He was wearing another Texas t-shirt and loose fitting basketball shorts. I had half hoped he would be bare-chested and wearing boxers. "No objectifying!" I told myself.

"Judy, you did stop by," he said smiling and taking the pizza and six pack from me. "He glanced back at me as we walked into his kitchen. "I'm really glad you offered to do this," he said, setting the armful down on his kitchen island. He pulled out a small cutting board and a pairing knife, quickly rolling and slicing the limes for our beers. "Have a seat on the couch. I fell asleep to a ball game." He waved a knife in the direction of his TV. I sat down, taking the room in as I did. He brought me a beer with a slice of lime stuck in the top and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"To new friendships," I said, holding my beer bottle towards him. He clinked his bottle to mine.

"To better friendships," he said in response. His brown eyes were warm, and it seemed his nap had done him some good. I took the first pull off my beer and sighed audibly. We sat in silence a moment, both of us savoring the lime-tinged flavor of amber beer. "I hadn't really pegged you for a beer and pizza kind of girl," he said.

"Well, there is nothing I like better at the end of the day than to take off my work clothes and drink a cold beer," I said, and then closed my eyes, wishing I could bring those words back. "I mean, you know, put on some sweats," I finished, lamely. I could feel myself blushing under Nick's laughing eyes.

"Me too," he said, laughing. With that I kicked off my flats and tucked my feet under me, wondering if I that would keep me from putting them back into my mouth. "You know, I almost didn't recognize you in the parking lot the other night. You look totally different in work out clothes and without your glasses. Greg is dying to take your yoga class. Don't be surprised if he turns up, looking lovesick."

"Why? What exactly did you tell him?" I inquired. Nick looked stuck, and sheepish.

"Umm, just that you were surprisingly, well … you see Judy, at work you always wear these little sweater sets and little flat shoes. When I saw you in the tank top and yoga pants, I kept wondering the hot girl was."

"Oh," I said, not sure whether to be pleased or dismayed at the backhanded sort of compliment. "So at work, I'm frumpy?" I asked. It was putting him on the spot, but a girl likes to know where she stands.

"No, NO. That's not what I meant. You look professional. Cute, but professional." As he said it, he scowled. "This is coming out all wrong."

"There's a reason for that," I said, pulling off my beer again. "I am the receptionist. I have to deal with distraught, angry or uptight folks. I don't need to be a distraction. I have to be professional and pleasant. I am the representative, the first face of CSI," I said. At least, that's how I looked at it. Nick looked thoughtful.

"None of that came out how I intended it. It's just that you are a totally different person than I would have expected. And let me point out again that I am really, really glad you came over," he said, and jumped up to get us another beer. I was already feeling the first beer. I had sucked it down fairly quickly.

"Let's start over, Nick," I said, as he handed me the second Dos Equis. I patted the couch beside me and he sat down. "How was your day?" I asked. He smiled and clinked his bottle to mine as he sat back down.

"Better now," he said, smiling.

The next day, I had a horrible headache and a queasy stomach, but surprisingly, I felt really good. The ringing phone was getting on my nerves, but I was handling it. I noticed Greg was giving me furtive looks every time he walked by the desk.

"Hey Greg!" I called out in my sweetest, perkiest voice. He waved and rushed on down the hall. Sara gave me a side-long glance as she walked along with Greg.

I was in the break room when Nick came in and put his new lunch cooler in the fridge. The smell coming out today wasn't as bad as the weeks before. We shared an eye lock and then both looked away, smiling.

"I'm sorry I missed you. I must have passed out on the couch," he said quietly, sitting down beside me. I handed him a packet of Advil and a water bottle. He smiled broadly. "You too?" he asked. I nodded. "I wanted to take you to breakfast this morning," he said after popping the ibuprofen and taking a long swig from the bottle. "You were already gone."

"Well, I thought you needed the rest," I answered.

"Yeah, well, I probably did …" he said, and grabbed my hand under the table. "Judy, I…"

At that moment, Hodges popped in, looking surprised at our tete-a-tete. Nick and I both blushed, Nick even more so than I. He casually dropped my hand under the table, giving my leg a soft feel before standing. "Thanks again for the, uh, dumplings Judy. Maybe we can share again sometime, my treat," he said. He nodded at Hodges as he walked out. I'll say it again: that man makes a fine exit.

"So, look's like you are making progress with that crush," Hodges said, pulling out his usual diet Coke and deli sandwich.

"Yeah, throwing a night of sex on him like he couldn't believe will do that," I said breezily, standing up and walking out the door. I turned back as Hodges pulled his jaws back together. "There's a whole leftover pizza in the fridge if anyone wants it." I left him wondering and walked back to my desk, smiling secretly to myself.


End file.
